


About not knowing

by Ruta



Series: The more it goes. The more it's gone. The more it takes away. [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Pack Bonding, Season Finale, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 21:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18747811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruta/pseuds/Ruta
Summary: "What are you doing? Why is Ghost with you?"Sansa stares at Tormund and the direwolf while a slimy and cold sensation grabs her by the scruff of the neck. Not for the first time, she feels her convictions falter. It's not as it seems.It can't be.The fact that Ghost is crossing Winterfell's gates with the free folk and at Tormund's side means nothing.(Even if I understand Jon choice of letting Ghost go North, I can't truly accept it. Among other things, what about him protecting Sansa as in season 7?)





	About not knowing

**Author's Note:**

> I have this headcanon that Tormund and Sansa create a bond, initially due to the fact that he believes that people kissed by fire have to join forces. After so many months that they know each other, he starts calling her Ladyluck.

"What are you doing? Why is Ghost with you?"  
  
Sansa stares at Tormund and the direwolf while a slimy and cold sensation grabs her by the scruff of the neck. Not for the first time, she feels her convictions falter. It's not as it seems. _It can't be_. The fact that Ghost is crossing Winterfell's gates with the free folk and at Tormund's side means nothing.  
  
Tormund scratches his beard. If she didn't consider it impossible, Sansa would think he is slightly uncomfortable.  
  
Finally he sighs. "The little crow asked me to take him to the north with us," he admits.  
  
The words stab her in the chest unmercifully. No. No. Jon would never. Ghost belongs to them. He must stay there. "His place is in Winterfell," she says slowly, "with us." _With me_.  
  
At this point she doesn't know anymore to whom she is referring, whether man or direwolf.  
  
The look in Tormund's eyes opens a breach in her breastplate. At another time and if he were another person, perhaps she would care that she is being so obvious. Not now and not with this man in particular.  
  
"He won't come back. You already know that, right? Because you're so fucking smart, ladyluck."  
  
No, she doesn't know, she would like to answer. Howewer it's impossible to deny the evidence when it speaks through the mouth of a man who tells no lies.

Instead of facing that problem and the heartbreak of it, Sansa opens her arms and prefers to face a different, more immediate one. "Ghost. Come to me, boy. Come to me." _Please. You are all that remains me of him,_ she thinks.

Ghost's red eyes glare at her, unblinking. He has always been quiet, usually meek despite his impressive size. He never disobeyed her in the past. Now he shows no signs of moving. She is gripped by panic. "Come back to me," she says and this time her voice cracks a little at the end. Her eyes sting.

Finally, with exasperating slowness, he begins to approach until he stands near her. When he is close enough, Sansa passes her arms around his neck and digs her fingers into his fur. It's still covered in blood and mud and smells of ash and fire. Residues of the battle and funeral pyres.

"Good boy," she whispers, trying not to inhale too much the smell of death he wears. She shuts her eyes closed, and suddendly she's thinking he's somebody else. "My good boy. Will you stay with me?"  
  
When she hears him rub his snout against her cheek, she releases the breath she didn't realize was holding in a sigh of relief. With Ghost pressed against her side, Sansa turns her attention back to Tormund. He doesn't seem particularly surprised by the turn of events. "You will not take him away."  
  
"Keep the damn beast," he answers, rolling his clear blue eyes, then he's laughing with barking and heartfelt laughters. Like he finds ridiculous her attempt of threatening behaviour.

When the laughters fade, he look at her face seriously. "Even if you succeeded with this one," he growls, pointing his finger at him, "you know that his master is lost." The sympathy in his eyes is tempered by something that in everyone else would be regret or bitterness.  
  
"He will come back. Jon always comes back. Isn't that what you said at the feast?"  
  
The men and women of the free folk continue to march behind him. Sansa knows it's not a goodbye, but it could be. It tastes like it.  
  
"This time I'm not so sure."


End file.
